


The place where I trace my bloodline

by Moonshine_Givens



Category: Justified
Genre: M/M, Raylan's son pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/pseuds/Moonshine_Givens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Graham Givens.” Boyd rolled the name in his tongue. “A great man’s name, that's for sure. It’s nice to meet you, Graham Givens.”</p><p>or</p><p>The story of a man called Boyd Crowder, as remembered by Raylan Givens' son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadz/gifts).



> Hello there, Gunslingers!!! Here we are once again. I know I promised to continue the hooker series, and I'll do, but a very good friend requested this one. Don't know how many chaps yet, will try and post quickly. As usual, please excuse my bad English. Hope you all enjoy it!

He doesn’t remember the first time he met Boyd Crowder. You see, there ain’t much you can remember from when you were two weeks old – he didn’t even had a name back then.

So he doesn’t remember that morning when his mother took him to the US Marshal’s office, holding him in her arms and smiling at all of his daddy co-workers, looking gorgeous and glowing. He wasn’t a pretty kid yet: no, he was just this small little thing that kept trying to reach for other things, squeezing his eyes against the world and drooling, falling asleep every three or four minutes.

He was so small no one could tell yet if he looked more like Raylan or Winona, but everyone was betting he would be a handsome devil someday. Good genetics, right? Rachel and Art came to see him, speaking in baby talk and holding his tiny hands. Tim was standing in the back, wanting to be a good friend and not the awkward guy, but he was not sure he knew how to behave around a baby since, you know, babies are not something you usually shoot or arrest. Damn confusing.

Raylan was smiling like a fool, too pleased to care. He and Winona weren’t together anymore. They didn’t know yet, but there was no coming back. He would never kiss her hair again or feel her finger tips against his skin, but it was all good, it was better: she was now the mother of his son, and they could be alright now. They could be close and love each other without hurting, without the pain and the silence, they now had a bond that wasn’t about sex and yelling at each other and hating and loving and hating still. They were parents, that small, nameless thing depended on them, and that was sacred.

That morning, the elevator must have made a sound, but no one listened. Ava probably tripped on her heels, and Boyd must have held her arm, and maybe they looked around for a while before seeing the small group gathered around the child, but again: everyone only had eyes and ears to Raylan’s child.

The Crowders were there to explain why the criminal known as “Hot Rod” had their number saved in his cellphone only as “Harlan”, since the man had being arrested two days before. No one was really thinking they were going to arrest Boyd for that alone, but Raylan wasn’t there and Art was kind of missing the Harlan accent. And some fun, of course. So he made Boyd came over, knowing full well it was a waist of everyone’s time.

The point was: Boyd was there now, and so was Ava.

“Raylan…” the man called before he could think about it, a reaction of wonder and pure surprise.

Sure, Boyd knew Raylan was expecting a baby. But it was an entirely different concept to actually see that boy he’d grow up with by the side of his ex-wife, all relaxed and happy, a father. It was a bit shocking, really. Boyd was walking towards the man without even realizing, before Ava pulled him back by his coat.

… because Boyd had to remember, he was Raylan’s friend but Raylan wasn’t his, he had to remember he was a criminal and Raylan was a marshal, maybe Raylan didn’t want him near, that wasn’t his party, they weren’t close any longer, that was Raylan’s child and maybe he would never get to see his face…

Raylan just rolled his eyes. He was happy. “Boyd, come meet my boy.”

Everyone watched in suspended breath as Raylan stepped to the side so Boyd and Ava could come closer. Boyd approached Winona and the baby as he once would have approached a sanctuary, an altar: full of respect and dignity, treading softly. Ava smiled at the people around, since she had to stay sane and polite and cool: her lover wasn’t going to be any of that, that much was clear.

Before she could say “good morning”, though, Boyd was talking:

“Can I hold him? Please?”

No one had asked for that. Not even Art, granddaddy of three. The kid was too small, too fragile, a vulnerable thing that could break with a strong wind.

“Sure, why not. Watch the head, now.”

Wasn’t it a wonder that Raylan didn’t even blinked?

“And what’s the little one’s name, may I ask?”

“Arlo.”

The shock in Boyd’s face was so deep that, for a whole minute, Winona wondered if he would actually drop the baby. He then eyed Raylan straight, and everyone could see the moment Boyd could breathe again.

“Is that so, Raylan?”

“No, actually, we were thinking to name him Boyd.” Raylan kept going, the smallest smile.

“Now, Raylan, I’ll have to stop you right there.” Boyd said, face as serious as if he was standing in front of a jury. “If you plan to name this boy after someone you shot, you have to promise me he won’t end up being called Dickie.”

Raylan laughed freely at that, touching Boyd’s arm, touching his son’s feet, touching Winona’s hair.

“He’ll look like you” Boyd whispered, wonder in his voice, while Art and Rachel pretended to talk about something else with Ava. Winona didn’t pretend shit – it was her son in Boyd’s arm. She would trust him if Raylan trusted, but it was still her son.

“You can tell?” Raylan asked.

“I can.” Boyd then looked up, directly at Winona, and said louder. “But I’m sure he’ll have some of his mother beauty as well, Raylan, nothing to be concerned.”

“We should hope.” Winona’s voice was unreadable. At least she wasn’t outright mad.

“We were thinking about Graham.” Raylan said under his breath after a beat, something he hasn’t told anyone but Winona herself.

“Graham Givens.” Boyd rolled the name in his tongue, looking at the baby in his arms. “A great man’s name, that for sure. It’s nice to meet you, Graham Givens.”

 

Graham remembers the first day he spent with Boyd Crowder as the day his daddy didn’t smile. Now, it wasn’t that Raylan Givens was a man of full-time smiles and giggles, and you surely couldn’t say Graham’s daddy was the heart of the party. But he could always spare a second to smile at his son, that small smile that seemed too often to say “Son, just look at those assholes”. It was nice.

That day, daddy looked like thunder. It was a weird day all around: his momma woke him up before dawn, got him in daddy’s car while Graham was still in his pjs, no breakfast, no time. Was momma crying? Graham was too sleepy to tell.

(Later, as a young man, Graham could tell Winona was not crying at that moment, but desperate and fearful: the threat was big enough to make even a “pragmatic woman” – as his daddy always called her – close to tears)

When he woke up, he was in a strange house with a strange man and his daddy: they gave him hot chocolate and Raylan told him he should trust Tim, that Tim was a friend. Then his daddy was gone, and Graham slept a bit more, woke up, played a game he can’t exactly recall. Ate fried chicken and french fries, took a nap.

Then, something happened, some sound, some movement, Graham can’t really tell you what. Tim carried him to the house’s basement and told Graham that they should play a game: Graham had to stay hidden in the closet, very quiet and very still, until his daddy or Tim came to get him. “Alright, boy? Can you do that for your buddy Tim?”.

Graham sat in the dark, feeling the fabric of dusty clothes between his fingers and the wood of the closet on his toes. He could hear Tim’s voice, and he sounded like he was on the phone. Graham knew he should always be quiet when grownups were on the phone. Tim’s voice was urgent and fast, and then he wasn’t talking anymore, and Graham could hear loud noises in the house.

Graham, the teenager, would laugh about this: about how he could, at age 3, recognize gun shots sounds. But he was sure, even inside the dark closet, that that’s what the sound was: he knew what a gun was, that thing his daddy never let him touch because that thing could hurt and kill. He had seen enough action movies with his momma to know what that object should sound like, and once Raylan told him, in a very serious tone, that if he ever thought he was hearing something like that, he should hide and don’t come out until one of his parents were there.

Tim told him to hide. He wasn’t a stupid kid.

There was a long time before Raylan started calling his name, saying he should come out. When, later, older, he asked his father, Raylan told him it was only half an hour tops before he was at the scene. Sitting in that dark closet, Graham could have sworn he had spent at least a whole day. That’s how fear works, you see.

His daddy got him in a car and started driving fast, yelling at someone on the phone. More than one person, maybe. No, Winona, he couldn’t trust the Marshals, there was obviously a leak, and don’t you dare try to come back down here. No, Art, he wouldn’t come back to the safe house, it wasn’t safe, for fucks sake! No, Tim, he doesn’t blame you… just… just get okay, alright? Well, Winona, he can’t very well kill the son of a bitch and watch Graham at the same time, can he? He has to trust someone.

Someone.

Graham was almost sleeping again as Raylan parked the car outside a house. A man with spike black hair came to the porch. Graham remembers thinking about Sonic, the hedgehog, a dark Sonic. The man looked pleased to see the car and, after looking at Raylan’s face, started looking worried as well. Graham watched his daddy climb out of the car, walk to the man and they talked. Daddy came back.

“Now, Graham, I’m gonna introduce you to a very old friend of daddy. We used to work together when I was 19. He’s name’s Boyd and he’s gonna take care of you.”

Raylan took the boy in his arms, as he would do when they were coming back from a day in the park and Graham little feet hurt. Graham took the opportunity to held daddy’s hat: it felt good to have it in his hands.

“Hello, young man! You may not remember, but I met you when you were only 2 weeks old. You’ve grow so much! C’mon, let’s go inside and let your daddy work. You hungry?”

Daddy put him down, and Boyd immediately took his hand. Graham wasn’t sure – the man didn’t look bad but he wanted his daddy, not a friend, another friend, another friend to get him alone in a dark closet. He thought about crying, about screaming, why wasn’t daddy smiling?

“You wanna keep the hat?” Raylan asked, getting down and talking to him eye to eye.

Graham only nodded. Okay, he wasn’t gonna cry, but he wasn’t gonna be happy either. Raylan nodded as well, kissing his forehead and holding him for a long time. That helped. Daddy’s friend didn’t let go of his hand, strong and warm. Strangely, that also helped.

When Raylan finally let go, he looked at the other man. “Boyd” was the only thing he said, long and low.

“I know, Raylan. I know. Go on, call me if you need anything.”

There wasn’t any closets this time. There was a very nice house, with a very nice lady, all blond and sweet talking, her dress with little sunflowers that Graham kept trying to count. They made him shower and dressed him in clothes that were too big for him, but kept him warm. They had pie and cookies, some sweet lemonade. The house had so much sun Graham forgot all about darkness. Ava sang to him, and Boyd spun him around to make him laugh. They had a nice dinner and watched SpongeBob SquarePants. Boyd said he should call them “Uncle Boyd” and “Aunt Ava”, and that his daddy would be around in no time, don’t worry, kid!

He wore daddy's hat for a long time.

By night, Ava made him sleep right beside her, and Graham could see the gun she had on the nightstand. Aunt Ava hugged him tight and sang him a sad song about a place called Harlan.

“Where’s that, Aunt?”

“That’s where you are, silly! Didn’t you know that? We were all born here: Uncle Boyd and your daddy and me. Born ‘n raised.”

Graham slept with the sound of her voice, aware that Boyd wasn’t in the house with them. In the middle of the night, Graham heard voices again, and for a moment he was worried there would be darkness and dust again, but it was just his father and Boyd.

They were both covered in dirt. As a kid, Graham could only see the dirt, green and brown and red, but some years later his father would tell him that it was mostly blood. “What do you think, kid?”.  
As soon as they were back in the house, Boyd went into the bathroom with Ava, but Raylan came straight into the bed and held Graham tight.

People were doing that a lot, that day.

“We’re going home now, son. You okay? We’re going home. See your momma.”

Graham only came to understand fully what happened that day years later, of course. Most of his memories were about Boyd’s house and the dark closet, and half of the things his daddy said that day didn’t make any sense at the time. He does remember, however, how Boyd had held his father’s arm right before Raylan got in the car to get them back home.

“Raylan, I know I’m not right to ask… but would you bring the boy here again? Sometime?”

Graham was almost sleeping again by them, but he remember thinking that that was good, that meant that Uncle Boyd thought he was a good boy, a polite boy, and that they wanted him back. That was good – and then he was asleep.

 

(Years later, he would ask his father why did he say yes. “I didn’t say yes right away.” his daddy answered with a frown. “I said I was gonna ask your momma first if that was okay. And I couldn’t very well just say no to the guy that had kept you safe and got his ass on the line for us, what kind of asshole do you think I am? Don’t answer that. No, besides… besides Boyd had that look on his face… don’t suppose you remember, being so young… like he wanted… you see, I already knew that Boyd and Ava couldn’t have any kids. And that was for the best, if you ask me, but Boyd just had that look… I’m not sure I can put it into words, son.” Right there his daddy snorted, an ugly sound. “And anyway, I couldn’t make you shut up about ‘Uncle Boyd’ ‘till I promised to bring you back, so that was that.”)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunny days are how Graham usually remembers the Harlan of his childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, Gunslingers! I'm... not sure about this chapter. Hope you all keep coming back after you read it (even if it's not, you know, great). Hope you enjoy it!

The next time Graham Givens spends a whole day at Uncle Boyd’s house, it’s his momma who drives him there. Its maybe two months after that weird day, but it feels to Graham like he spent years away from his Aunt Ava and her beautiful voice.

“As long as you know that your momma’s voice is way more lovely than Ava’s, we’re good, kiddo.” Winona says to him as they get in the car. Pff. Of course her voice was better, she was momma. Everything about her was better.

As they drive there, she makes one hundred recommendations – don’t run, don’t break, don’t ask, don’t bite. Graham’s not sure he’s going to remember everything, but he’ll try and be a good boy, behave like a man. It’s a long drive, full of sun in an endless road, and Graham was restless the whole way. When they get there, Boyd and Ava are both sitting in the porch, smiling and talking in quiet voices. Boyd has a book on his hands, and the minute Graham’s out the car he goes running towards the man. Of course, Boyd receives him with open arms and a tight hug.

“Looking huge, young man! And what’s that in your belt, a star? So you’re a lawman like your father!”

There ain’t much Graham remembers about that particular afternoon on account of, you know, the lack of life threatening incidents. That being said, Graham spent so many afternoons with Boyd and Ava, running in the yard and playing ball and eating chicken, that some things he thinks occurred that day may as well have happened three weeks later or when he was seven, who knows?

He still remembers Winona spent the whole day with them, sitting on Aunt Ava’s couch and drinking a “grow up drink”, watching him with a careful eye. Older, Graham will always think that Winona was watching Ava and Boyd with much more care and attention, but he don’t suppose he noticed that when he was three. He did noticed how Ava and Winona laughed and spoke on polite voices about nothing at all – the weather in Harlan, a recipe for cake – even at that age, Graham was quite aware his momma didn’t cook, Graham’s new nanny… it was a whole afternoon of small talk and careful laughs between the two woman, as Boyd chased Graham around the house.

Uncle Boyd was a funny man, Graham perceived that day. He had such intensity – “intensity” might not be the word the child used, but it was what he was feeling, anyway. Uncle Boyd was intense, in a way that made him a funny man to figure. He would play with Graham as if he was a kid himself: run like crazy, laugh ‘till his belly hurt, roll in the dirt without caring about his clothes. Other grow ups would play with Graham quite often, his momma, his nanny, and his daddy as well, in his own silly and quiet way. But not even Aunt Ava looked like Boyd when she was playing – all other grow ups had that way of getting into games that made it easy for Graham to understand that even if they were enjoying spending time with him, they were mostly playing to make him happy. Now Boyd looked genuinely happy to just be running under the sun. He was a different kind of man, Graham understood that day.

He would think about that so much more, later in his life.

Graham doesn’t remember how much time they spent in the Crowder’s home. He remembers crying as he left, grabbing Ava’s dress with little chubby hands, both women laughing at his antics. He remembers hating everything for about two seconds, but then his momma was saying to Uncle Boyd:

“I’m sorry we have to leave so early, but I still have to drive ‘till Raylan’s, so…”

“Oh, so Graham is going to stay with his daddy?”

Well, then. Not hating everything anymore.

“Now, young man, you have to go, then!” Boyd was already moving, all energy. “You don’t wanna keep your daddy waitin’, do ya? Now, I’ll tell you what. I’ll trust you with a very important mission. You’ll have to deliver this package I’m fixin’ to your father, and only your father, alright? Ain’t no kid’s mission, Graham, this a man’s mission! You up for that?”

Of course, there was just some cake on the brown paper bag Boyd gave him. Or maybe pie. But it was a man’s mission, and Graham spent the whole journey home holding tight to his package, even as he slept on.

 

“… You did what now?” Graham could feel his daddy’s smell, and hear his voice vibrating through his whole body. Maybe he was drooling on Raylan’s shirt, but he was sure his daddy wouldn’t mind.

“Raylan, you said you wanted Graham to spend some time with them, I just made Graham spend some time with them. You should be happy.”

“Yeah, well, Winona, I was under the impression I was going to take care of it.”

“And why is that? I’m Graham’s mother. Anywhere he goes, I should be welcomed as well.” There’s a pause, where Graham is not sure if his parents are silent or if he’s sleeping again. “Besides, I know you already trust Boyd. I had to be there and see if I can trust them myself, don’t you think?”

“So what you’re saying…”

“Raylan, you’re making this a bigger deal than it is. I called Ava, asked if we could go down there today, she said it would be lovely. We got into the car, Graham was so happy I thought he was going to puke, we ate cake, Ava has some really good bourbon, and we talked like normal people for a whole afternoon. There was no guns, no shooting, no tugs, no criminal activities whatsoever. What?, Graham’s sleeping. Okay, okay, I’ll watch my mouth. Oh, and Boyd should really reconsider his career choices, he could definitely pull some Mary Poppins.” Mary who? Graham wonders. “Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t mind our son spends some time with your crazy friends, as long as I’m sure they’re not going to eat him for desert or somethin’.”

“Oh, cannibals hillbillies, very funny.” Another pause, and Graham was considering really waking up. Nah, not yet. “Besides, Boyd’s not my friend.”

“Well, then, what the hell was your son doing in his house all afternoon?”

 

(“Now, son, I’m pretty sure Boyd sent pie that day. You remember it as cake? Well, I remember pie… I can’t tell for sure why I was so mad at your momma that day. Guess I had pictured walkin’ up Boyd’s porch with you on my arms and seein’ the surprised look on their faces, Ava’s smile and all that. Felt like she had stolen somethin’ mine, you know? Felt like that… You know what, Boyd sent a note as well, with the pie, cake, whatever, that day. Nothin’ much, just, you know, sayin’ he wished you’d come over often and that I should go visit as well. You know, in Boyd talk, that is, so it was probably an eight page essay on being a good influence on the youth or somethin’. What, I ain’t mean, that’s Boyd for you.”)

 

It doesn’t become a regular thing after that, because not Raylan or Winona were good at keeping regular. Knowing what he knows later, Graham will think Boyd and Ava probably weren’t always up to having a child on their home as well, seeing the kind of trouble that usually brought home.

But it does become a thing, something that happens often enough that Ava and Boyd don’t have the surprise look that Raylan was hoping for. No, they often just looked pleased, calm and happy, expecting 

It’s the sort of thing that happens when he’s daddy gets urgent calls from the office, yelling at his phone that he has a kid and he can’t just drop it all in a second. When those arguments don’t work, Raylan will call Boyd, asking “You busy today?”. More than half the time Boyd will not be busy, and Graham will get to spend some time in Harlan. It would all be okay if Raylan didn’t keep saying he was sorry, didn’t have this air of regret and misery. Graham also misses his daddy those days, but they’re not bad.

It was also the sort of thing that happened when Raylan didn’t think Graham should expend another weekend locked in an apartment, hearing the sounds of the bar downstairs. When Raylan said things like “Hey, buddy, let’s go play some ball, yeah?”, half the times it meant they would drive around until they found a baseball pitch. Some days, they would drive to Martins Fork lake and lay on the sun, laughing at nothing at all.

Some of those days, though, Raylan would ask “Let’s go play some ball?” but also “Wanna see what Boyd has been up to?”. They would then drive to Harlan, and Ava would meet them with a “How dare you make us wait so long to see the boy, Raylan?”

Graham remembers Aunt Ava from that time as a satisfied woman. She never looked hungry or too mad or even anxious, just calm and content, walking around the house with a light step.

Graham will always have that image in his head, when talking about Ava Crowder; he doesn’t know if it took place in 2013 or 2016 – he knows he wasn’t old enough to really understand the Crowders and the kind of life they were living, not at the time. That day she was still just Aunt Ava, nothing complicated about her. It was a sunny day, since sunny days are how Graham usually remembers the Harlan of his childhood, the sun reflecting on the surface of a wood table, on the lemonade glasses and on the shotgun next to the front door; Ava was wearing a light pink dress with cowboy boots, as she so often did, her blond hair shining and falling in curls over her shoulders. There was a song playing on the radio, and Graham feels sorry he can’t exactly tell which one – he would like to have that day clear in his heart to every single detail, but that’s the memory for you, always escaping. Ava was singing along, her Harlan accent heavy and gorgeous, as she was helping Raylan getting the dishes to the table. Boyd came from the kitchen and made her spin in her place, taking her by surprise.

It seems like such a silly memory, not the first thing anyone in their right mind would connect to a woman like Ava Crowder, Queen of Harlan, violence and pain. But you see… Graham remembers her as that spinning girl, all pink and yellow, her laugh of surprise filling the room. Somehow… Graham wishes life would always be as simple as he perceived it in that single afternoon, his daddy and Boyd and Ava in the dining room, spinning, spinning, spinning…

Graham could never get his father to talk about how much of those afternoons he spent as a kid in Harlan influenced Raylan’s own pat to forgive Ava and even Boyd. Older Graham knew there was much pain in the past between them all: bullets and un-kept promises. As a kid, he couldn’t very well understand the way his father behaved on that first year: leaning against the porch, serious and half-way to pissed off, hat low over his eyes and a hand in his gun. Closed and distant, Raylan would bring Graham to the house and disappear as fast as his boots could take him, coming later to get him, barely a word exchanged with the Crowders. More than once Graham remembers that, after a three hour ride to Harlan, they would get into the house and, twenty minutes later, Raylan would be dragging Graham back to the car, presumably mad at something Boyd had said.

One of those days, Graham wouldn’t stop crying, chocking on the big tears running down his face.

He remembers screaming at his father that he was being mean to Uncle Boyd, because he knew that Boyd had been waiting for that day, waiting for a chance to take Graham to a picnic on the woods. Boyd had told him it was something he’s family used to do when his momma was still alive, and now his family was all gone, but he could do it again with Graham, and why, why was daddy making Uncle Boyd alone again?

Raylan stopped the car after that. Graham doesn’t recall if they were just outside the town or already half-way towards Lexington: he probably couldn’t see it with the tears clouding his vision. His daddy sighed heavily and pulled the cellphone out.

“Hey… you at your place, still? Yeah, we’re just… look, I wanna tell you… listen, Boyd, we’ll be there in twenty, okay? We’ll talk when I get there.”

They go back and Raylan stays, this time. It wasn’t easy at first: too many times in which Raylan would stand stiff on one of the walls or by the door, hands on his pocket as if trying not to reach for his holster. Too many times he started a sentence and had to swallow it back as if censuring himself, too many times in which he just glared and didn’t talk at all, anger coming out of him in waves.

Once they were outside things got better, then: for once, Raylan couldn’t stand by a wall, couldn’t distance himself as much as they all shared the same tablecloth somewhere in the woods. Grass and sun seemed to light his humor, and even if he spent most of the time sleeping under his hat or drinking in silence, they could all feel how much easier it was. Easier, yes – easier to pretend they were all old friends having a picnic in a summer day, the laugh of a child filling the air, green leafs and strawberry jelly. Before they went home that day, Raylan shook Boyd’s hand and kissed Ava on the cheek, smiling at them both with just a small hint of pain.

Graham can’t be sure, but he imagines they never got to talk about the incident as his daddy had promised on the phone to Boyd. Being that as it may, Raylan never did it again: never brought Graham all the way to Harlan to just take the kid back over an argument. Yes, they still fought. Graham could sometimes hear the occasional shout that didn’t make sense to his young ears, but mostly, even as he turned four years old, Graham could tell if his daddy and Boyd had been fighting by the quality of the exchanged looks, or by the way they stood side by side. So yes, they still argued and teased each other in vicious ways, and sometimes Raylan would storm out of the house as if he wanted to shoot both Crowders; but sometimes Raylan stayed as well, eating Boyd’s bacon and watching the game. It wasn’t a regular thing, but it was a thing, a good, familiar thing.

Something the child had said in the car that afternoon, between tears and angry shouts, must had changed Raylan’s heart: maybe he understood how much Boyd meant to Graham, how much the boy enjoyed those afternoons wasted in a land of misery and pain. Or maybe he understood how much Graham meant to Boyd, the thought of Boyd planning ahead the days he could borrow and steal to be close to Graham, anticipating those days with care and affection…

Much like the fox on “The Little Prince”, Graham would add, if he wasn’t afraid to over romanticize their past – besides, “The Little Prince” was the first book Uncle Boyd bought him, and Graham has come to understand Boyd was enough of a complex man to be the fox and the rose, the prince and the narrator, a king in a solitary planet and a snake with a poisonous bite.

He’ll never say it to his father, but there was a time that Graham was sure Boyd was the well, Raylan’s well hidden in the desert. But that was years later – time always changes things.

 

(“Your problem is that you always thought Boyd was the victim, and I, I was always the bad guy. ‘Uncle Boyd just wants to go fish, Uncle Boyd just wants to play ball, Uncle Boyd has been waiting the whole month to watch this movie with me.’ Or something. Now, I ain’t sayin’ Boyd wasn’t a good… whatever-the-hell he always was to you, to… to us. But he was also a pain in the ass. It would have been way easier to just, you know, never go back; you know now how much I was risking by setting foot on that house… Why did I keep bringing you back to Harlan? I… I’m not sure, son. Never was.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Boyd got so few lines this chapter! I'll try and write him more dialogues. I kind of want to attach a "I'm sorry" note on this chapter. :( Wanna reach me? I'm at ohthati.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two secrets: the secret and the secret, and both have Boyd Crowder in the middle of it. Graham Givens stumbles upon the secrets as he gets older.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, Gunslingers! This is chapter three, and it's much longer than the last two. As usual, please forgive any mistakes, I'm still miles away from Kentucky.

The first time Graham hears about the secret, he’s turning seven. It’s also the first time his Uncle Boyd attends one of his birthdays – usually, the Crowders make him a cake two or three weeks later in Harlan, sometimes they get him a small gift, but they never once came to his birthday before.

Thinking back, Graham also figures that day was the first time he ever saw Boyd Crowder outside the hills of Harlan County.

Ava would sometimes drive him to his momma’s house, stop and talk to Winona for a while, stay for an hour or two while they exchange stories about Raylan or Graham. But never Boyd: Graham would think Boyd belonged to Harlan’s ground just as the roots of the trees, just as the minerals in the dark mines.

So Graham had been really anxious about that day. Weeks, maybe months before he had been in the worst behavior ever; he had cried and screamed and pouted until the Crowder couple had finally promised to come to his party, in front of daddy nonetheless. Graham knew a promise made by Boyd in front of Raylan was not likely to be broken. To the child, it looked like such a stupid, unbelievable concept, that after all these years his uncle and aunt had never come to his birthday party.

Graham remembers, from that day, Winona’s house full of all kinds of people, even though there weren’t a lot of kids. Graham wasn’t very fond of children of his age in general, he was always more comfortable around adults, and for as long as he can remember he was the silent, younger member of any given meeting. That doesn’t mean his party was a quiet party: there was his momma’s family, some of his neighbors, people from daddy’s work.

There was Tim and Rachel and Art, standing in a corner of the party, trying not to get run over by the few kids playing around and the more common single friends of his momma. When Graham was younger, he would often think of the three of them as some kind of super heroes, on those rare occasions he got to see his daddy’s co-workers: they were always serious, trying to catch bad guys, guns and stars and all that jazz. As he was turning seven, the small group didn’t remind Graham of the Avengers any longer: he was quite aware the only super hero in the US Marshals was his own father.

He was almost a grown up, after all.

Graham remembers he was thanking Rachel for his birthday gift when his mother kneeled beside him, whispering against his ear:

“I think you’re gonna like who just got here.”

He would always remember that moment: the perfume of Winona’s hair, her soft voice in his ear, the way the room spun as he turned towards the door, his heart beating faster as he caught a glimpse of the gold of Ava’s hair, the black of Boyd’s coat, the ivory of Boyd’s smile.

“And where is my favorite birthday boy?”

He was a good kid, so he didn’t ran right away. He stopped, smiled at Rachel, thanked her again, smiled at his momma. He was a good kid, so he didn’t trip over anyone making his way to the door, he didn’t push anyone’s leg out of the way. He was a good, very good kid, but he couldn’t help yelling their names, nor could he help laugh out loud as his uncle held him up high.

“Oh, c’mon Boyd, let the kid give me a kiss as well, I didn’t drove your ass all the way from Harlan to watch you steal the boy from me!”

“You aunt is just jealous ‘cause she _knows_ I am the favorite!”

“Not true! Aunt Ava is my favorite!”

“Oh, is that so? Then I guess I’ll have to give some other kid this gift I have here.”

Graham was already pouting and trying to reach for the package in Boyd’s hands, when his father comes from behind and snatches the gift right from Boyd’s fingers.

“Don’t fuss so much, kid. I’m pretty sure your asshole uncle didn’t buy you the new XBox.”

At seven, Graham was too young to perceive certain things, but he’s sure it must have been there: the way Boyd’s eyes shinned whenever Raylan insulted him, as if the man had just complimented him instead; the way Raylan tried to hide his smile, aiming instead for an air of annoyance that fooled no one; the way they tracked each other not only with their eyes but with their bodies as well, as if every conversation was a dance of sorts.

If he was to write a novel about them, about those days and those years, adult Graham would make sure to include all those small details, hitting since the first page what the reader should notice, so that no one would be mistaken by the apparent hostility that used to poison the surface of their meetings. But he’s sure he didn’t actually saw any of that, not on those days, at least: he’s sure his seven years old self could only watch the square of the blue package with a golden ribbon, as his daddy shook it from side to side with mocking interest.

“Now, Raylan, my friend, you know I’m just a humble bar keeper in Harlan, I can’t afford buying fancy gifts as, let’s say, US Marshals may…”

“Humhm, Boyd, let’s tell Graham that.”

“… but I do believe my gift – our gift, I mean, mine and Ava’s – is worth much more than a simple violent game for an intelligent mind like Graham’s.”

“Is that so?”

“If it’s mine, why is daddy holding it?” The two men look down, as if they had completely forgot Graham is still there, and seriously, even if you count the whole story between them, that was a huge dick move to do in the kid’s birthday party.

“’Cause your daddy is what we like to call ‘an asshole’.” Boyd says with a wicked smile, snatching the gift back from Raylan.

“Hey! You watch your mouth ‘round my kid.”

“You just called me an asshole!”

“Well, first of all, we all know it’s true, second of all, he’s my kid.”

“Oh, will the two of you stop flirting already; you’re not the ones turning seven!” Ava grabbed the gift with firm hands, giving them both a bad eye and kneeling beside Graham to finally let him get his gift; kissing him softly in both cheeks and holding him for a long moment, whispering against his ear. “Both your father and uncle are assholes, but you’re a damn fine prince, baby. Happy birthday, we love you very, very much. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

And that’s why Aunt Ava was _always_ his favorite.

*****

Graham wasn’t hiding, not really: he was just, well, sitting quietly inside his mother’s closet, staying away from everyone. And actively trying not to be found. But it’s not hiding, because it’s his birthday party, and everything he does is must certainly justified today.

It’s just, people are eating cake and talking loudly and laughing at stupid party games, and he just wants to be away for a second, away with his precious gift in a silent room where no one will bother him much. His gift was something amazing, just as his uncle had stated: the promise of an adventure. Graham lets his fingers travel over the cover, tracing with his index the blonde hair of a skinny boy, somewhat melancholic or lonely: he can’t say why the little boy has an air of sadness. He stands in a small planet, surrounded by yellow stars, and Graham just couldn’t wait until everyone was gone to meet him.

Graham reads: “ _Once when I was six years old I saw a magniﬁcent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal_.” Below there is a drawing of huge yellow snake, with a mouth big enough to eat the scared bear she has in her hold whole. Graham hears footsteps just outside the closet, in his momma’s room, but doesn’t stop his reading.

“ _I pondered deeply, then, over the adventures of the jungle. And after some work with a colored pencil I succeeded in making my ﬁrst drawing. My Drawing Number One_.” Graham has made quite a few drawings, but usually they represent hills and the sun, sometimes his momma and his daddy. He never tried to draw a snake eating an elephant, but he sometimes draws dragons and birds, and even a few ducks.

Outside, he hears the voice of Art, daddy’s boss. He’s thanking Winona for something that has to do with wine and a shirt, but Graham couldn’t care less, really: he’s not in this room.

“ _That is why, at the age of six, I gave up what might have been a magniﬁcent career as a painter. I had been disheartened by the failure of my Drawing Number One and my Drawing Number Two_.” the narrator tells Graham. Outside, Art is telling his momma he’ll be gone soon, or his wife will give him hell.

“… what with Boyd being here.”

Graham raises his eyes finally, looking at the small portion of the room he can see through the crack of the almost closed door of the closet. He can’t see Art, but he can see his mother quite well, sitting in the bed, very still, Art’s shirt in her left hand while a cloth rests in the other: Art must have stained his shirt with wine at some point.

“I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re saying here, Art. You were all invited to the party, and I did my best to make sure everyone felt at home.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Winona. Everything was great and Graham is a great kid. I’m just saying, I would rather not see some things, even when I imagine they happen when I’m not there to see it.”

His momma’s eyes were more and more like too round balls, and she didn’t pretend to scrub the shirt as she looked where Graham presumed Art was standing.

“We weren’t selling meth here today, Art. This was a kid’s party and the Crowders were invited, that’s all.”

Graham listened as Art sighed deeply, and his momma eyes turned suddenly cold.

“Look, Winona, I get your position here, but I’m sure you can understand mine as well. When Raylan first came back to Kentucky, all those years ago… I asked him, and, let’s be honest here, he lied to me. He said the man wasn’t his friend, alright? Now, it doesn’t take a genius to understand they have a long story between them, and some unsolved issues, but I would have appreciated if Raylan had been honest back then. Now every time something happens in Harlan County I’m praying it isn’t Boyd’s doing, otherwise I’ll have to send Raylan to arrest the man his kid treats as an uncle!”

Winona raised, and Graham couldn’t see her, but her tone was suddenly much lower and hissed, as if she was controlling herself not to scream.

“Raylan is a great marshal…”

“I never said he wasn’t…”

“He’s a great a marshal, and you guys have jack shit against Boyd, otherwise he would be in jail already, you know that. Raylan would never… he would never dream of…”

“Winona, honey, I’m not saying Raylan is dirty or doing favors for the Crowders. If I suspected that I would have him gone from my office a long time ago. It’s not that, but the thing is, Raylan does have a great deal of affection for the man, we can’t deny that, just as we can’t deny that Boyd is a criminal.”

 _Boyd. Criminal_. Graham doesn’t understand right away: he can’t barely follow the words now.

“… can’t arrest him, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s a saint. We all know he sells heroine for half the damn state, and his wife is not innocent either, you know that.”

Graham thinks his momma says something to Art, but he can’t quite hear them anymore, and he’s not following the meaning of the words anyway. Words keep traveling to his hear, but he’s sure he shouldn’t be listening, he doesn’t _want_ to listen, he wishes he’d never heard any of it. “… _it’ll be bad for Raylan_ ”, and he’s not sure why he feels so wrong, as if he’s done something bad himself. “… _hillbilly drug dealer and his half-time pimp wife_ …”, he was never the sort of kid to listen to conversations behind closed doors, and he feels terrible that this is his first act as a seven years old. “… _I just hope they know what they’re doing, I can’t be around if this shits blows up_ …”, and now he’s alone in a dark closet, unsure of what to think, staring at the drawing of a fatal yellow snake. “ _Why should any one be frightened by a hat?_ ”, his book asks.

 

The first time Graham sees the secret, he’s nine and a half. His father was living in a nice house, finally, a house with furniture and a kitchen and a small room where Graham could keep his old video games and some clothes. Raylan moved there about a week ago, and Graham loves it already – it doesn’t smell like the bar, they don’t have to listen to country songs all night, and he was getting too old to sleep with his daddy on the same bed. It feels like home, finally, just like Winona’s house, his Aunt Jamie’s place (his mother’s sister), the Crowders house. Those are all places where Graham can play and eat well, sleep comfortably and walk with bare foot. He’s more than glad that his daddy now has a place like that, where they can cook fish and change the color of the walls if they want.

That’s what his daddy was doing, that afternoon – repainting the wall from a dark brown to a lighter yellowish color. Graham is kind of helping, washing brushes and covering the furniture with sheets, but his dad doesn’t want him very near the painting, afraid he’ll get allergies. So he stands away a bit, reading by a window and occasionally going through his father’s boxes, looking at the man’s random objects.

He’s reading “Journey to the Center of the Earth” right now, and it’s a tough book, nothing like “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” or “Tistou: The Boy With Green Thumbs”, his last readings. But he made a deal with Winona – if he can end a book from Jules Verne, then he can read the Harry Potter saga, since the classics will always come first.

Besides, he’s glad Uncle Boyd chose this one to give him: the book is full of adventures and twists, even though Graham often has to ask his momma for the meaning of the words. He feels as if he’s traveling alongside the characters, and he’s not that eager to finish it as he once was. He’ll quite miss this little universe, even if Hogwarts is waiting for him just around the corner.

He can’t concentrate all that well right now, however, and his head feels heavy, the beginning of a headache. Graham doesn’t know if it’s the paint’s smell or reading for so many hours straight, but he gets it’s time to wander off a bit, and starts walking the rooms without much thought.

He gets to his daddy’s room and searches the boxes: clothes, documents, a Tombstone poster. He finds a few letters – which he doesn’t open, because he’s a good kid – and finally a box of pictures. Graham spends a long time looking at the albums: most are unknown faces, people that are presumably dead or long gone from his father’s life. There are not many pictures from outside of Harlan – a few pictures with Winona, some old photographs with women Graham suppose were daddy’s girlfriends. Graham sees a picture of his momma wearing a silly party hat, looking much younger and very happy. As he lifts it, another picture falls from behind it, as if the time had glued the photos together: it’s an even older image, and Graham touches it with uncertain fingers, because it immediately fells like a secret.

He recognizes both men fast: it’s his daddy and Uncle Boyd, of course. Only they both look much, much younger, and Graham realizes that picture must be from before his daddy went away, when Boyd and Raylan still worked together.

Graham knows a bit about that time: how his daddy dug coal; how it was a horrible, dangerous work; how, when they were nineteen, Boyd saved his father’s life, and Raylan’s Aunt Helen helped him get out of Kentucky. Those are all stories Raylan sometimes tells him, between travels down to Harlan – daddy sometimes points him random places, where he went to school, the street where he used to live, the bar him and Boyd drank every weekend.

It’s a strange picture Graham holds between his fingers, and he can’t really tell why. It’s almost a close up, as if one of them were holding the camera in an odd angle. Graham can’t see their chests, but just enough of their shoulders to know they’re both shirtless. They’re standing close together, faces almost touching, and Raylan is smiling to the camera, a small, shy smile Graham doesn’t believe he ever saw in his father’s face. Boyd, though, was turned facing Raylan, and Graham wouldn’t have recognized his uncle with much more hair and such a strange look in his eyes, if it wasn’t by the shark smile Boyd was giving Raylan, Boyd’s signature.

“Whatchu doing here, kid?”

“Hi! Hey dad, I was just…” Graham looks down, at his father’s much younger face, and just hands the photograph without saying anything else.

Raylan takes the paper with the same uncertain fingers his son used to touch it the first time, his brow furrowed with an odd expression. His face doesn’t exact betray his thoughts for a long time, and Graham wonders if Raylan can’t recognize the men in the picture: there’s something very different about the Raylan and the Boyd living in that moment.

“I thought I’ve lost this…” daddy whispers, without taking his eyes from the photo.

“It was with some pictures of momma.”

Raylan laughs, as if the idea is absurd; Graham can’t quite make the connection.

“We were…” Raylan begins again, but then he looks at Graham, as if he’s trying to understand what his son’s asking: Graham is not really asking anything, because he’s not quite sure what he should be asking here. “We were very young here. I suppose we were eighteen or somethin’. Just started workin’ the mine.”

“You look…” Graham is not sure what they look, because he’s not sure what he saw. “…happy.”

Raylan opens his mouth as if he was about to deny he would ever be happy near Boyd, but Graham beats him to clarify: “You both do.”

Raylan nods, then looks at the picture one more time, as if he’s searching said happiness in the young men’s faces. He looks up again, moves his weight from the right to the left feet, and Graham is still not sure why this situation feels so awkward and weird.

“Me ‘n Boyd were close. It’s not…” but his father doesn’t get to say what it’s not, as if he’s not certain Graham should hear. He has the look he sometimes gets when he’s avoiding bad words or dirty jokes because Graham is too young. “We were close, even before the mine. We…”

His daddy sounds as if he was about to say they were close one more time, but stopped himself. Graham knows Raylan wants to say more, but he’s not quite sure what he should be asking.

“Why aren’t you close like that again, daddy?”

Raylan laughs and messes with his own hair, looking at the ceiling as if the answer could come from above.

“You know what, kid? If you asked me that a few years back, I’d say it was a lost case. Now, I’m not so sure…” he looks once again at the picture, and this time he seems more at easy. “We really were happy…”

“And close.” Graham agrees, not sure he’s using the word right, as if there’s a whole new meaning to it he’s not familiar with.

“And close. C’mon, you said you wanted to help, get your lazy ass from the floor and help!”

They close the photography box then, putting all the pictures away.

 

The first time Graham talks about the secret, he’s eleven, and he’s never been so mad his whole life. He’s having dinner with the Crowders, it’s his summer vacation and his father is the greatest jackass to ever walk the earth. They had a big fight this morning, and Graham refused to share the same ceiling as the man for another night: he could either go to his Aunt Jamie or to Harlan, since his momma had travelled to New York with her new boyfriend. Raylan lets him decide, and Graham knows he chose the Crowders just to hurt his father more, but now he regrets his decision: at Jamie’s his cousins were always making enough noise that he could go unnoticed if he wanted.

As it was, both Ava and Boyd were looking at him with barely hidden concern, and the dinner was silent and awkward. Boyd tried to engage him in conversation more than once, asking about “The Lord of the Rings”, Graham’s latest reading. But the boy kept answering with dry words, and his uncle – Boyd, Graham says mentally, he’s getting too old to keep calling him uncle – finally gave up and let him be.

And that was unfair, really, even Graham knew that: it was not Boyd’s fault his daddy was an asshole. In fact, Boyd was the biggest victim here, as was aunt… as was Ava. Graham feels his rage rising again, he wants to yell a little more at Raylan, wants to call him just to say he’s an asshole. He almost gets up to grab his cellphone, when he remembers he doesn’t want to talk about it in front of Boyd. Another reason why he should have gone to Jamie’s.

“Son, you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, un… Boyd.”

Boyd smiles slowly, as he does every time Graham fails in calling him by his name on the first try.

“Well, you don’t sound fine to me, Graham.” Ava says, looking at the boy with hard eyes. “In fact, you look like shit, and I gotta say you’re way too young to already be lookin’ like shit.”

“I’m not a kid!” Graham answers with more anger that he meant, because he’s not arguing with Ava, not really.

Ava raises her arms in mock surrender, but Boyd looks very unsatisfied.

“Graham,” he’s wearing a serious tone and looking straight at the boy. “you know we love you and you know we consider you part of this family. We’ll always open our home to you and we’re more than happy to share our food, you know that by now. And you’re right, you ain’t a kid any longer, you’re a young man, and I must treat you as so: you’ll not raise your voice to your Aunt Ava without reason ever again, you hear me?”

Graham wants to scream, he’s been screaming the whole day at his daddy and he wants reason to scream the whole night as well, but before he can open his mouth Boyd’s eyes make him stop: it’s not threat he sees there, but the reasoning and concern of the man he knows since he was just a baby. He knows he’s in the wrong here, not because he was rude, but because it was without any reason. He lowers his eyes and says to his plate:

“I’m sorry, Aunt Ava. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“That’s alright, kid. We’re concerned about you, that’s all.”

“Look,” Boyd starts again, with a more amenable tone. “we probably shouldn’t meddle with you and your daddy’s problems, but if you wanna a piece of advice from your old uncle, you should call him and apologize for whatever wrong you did.”

That makes Graham raises his eyes immediately.

“What did he say this was about?” he asks, using all of his will to keep his voice at a normal tone.

Ava and Boyd exchange looks, and Graham likes this even less.

“Your father didn’t say anything, sweetheart.” Ava answers. “It’s just, well, it’s obvious you guys have been fighting, and we assumed…”

“Aunt, I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” Graham says, before he can stop himself. “but you’re assuming all wrong here. I wasn’t the one to…” he wants to say “fucked up”, but knows it’s not the time to use such words. “I wasn’t the one telling lies. My daddy was, and he’s the one that should be sorry.”

Graham feels himself start shaking, the anger making him strangle the fork in his hands.

“Okay, son.” Boyd says, looking from his hands to his face. “We believe you. You and Raylan should tal…”

“I’m done talking with him!” Graham hears himself scream, and he knows he can’t stop now. “Uncle, I’m sorry, but I’m done, he’s a liar and an asshole and he’s a horrible friend to you, and that’s so unfair, and I hate him! I hate him so much!”

Ava is rising from her chair, and Graham doesn’t understand what she’s doing until he feels her arms holding him tight: he’s shaking pretty bad now, and feels at the verge of crying.

Boyd raises and sits in the chair by his side, carefully taking the fork from between his contracted fingers. Both the Crowders look pale, and Graham hates it, hates that they look so concerned and hurt already.

“Graham, son, I know you’re mad right now, but you shouldn’t say you hate your daddy…”

“Do you know what he told me today?” Graham listens to his own voice, but can’t seem to control it. “Do you have any idea what lies he’s been saying me? He told me you’re a thief! A thief and a criminal and that you sometimes hurt people and that you’re bad!”

Graham sees the moment his words hit Boyd: how he seems surprised and shocked all at once, and he thinks that’s good, because it’s a confirmation that the whole concept is absurd. Ava’s hands holding him even closer to her body, and she’s now shaking as well, Graham can feel it against his back.

But Boyd’s shock only lasts a second – soon, the man is swallowing and looking at the floor, a resigned look on his face. He kneels to be even closer to Graham, his hands holding the boy’s hands for a moment, and then backing away, as if he’s not sure he should be touching.

“Graham, was I ever bad to you?”

“I know it’s a lie, Boyd, I…”

“Son, I asked you a question. In all the years you’ve frequented my home, was I ever bad to you, in any way?”

Graham shakes his head, feeling young and miserable.

“Have I ever hurt you in any way?”

“Of course not, uncle.”

“No, I haven’t. Neither has Ava.” Boyd stops then, looks at the floor, looks at Ava, at the room in general, as if searching for an answer. “That doesn’t mean I’ve always been good, Graham. Me and your aunt… we’ve made very wrongs decisions a long time ago. Decisions we both wish you’ll never have to make. We have both turned to wrong directions and done much harm in our lives. I’m not proud of the way I make my living, just as I’m not proud of the people I’ve hurt. But this is who I am, son. Who we are.”

“But…” Graham turns in Ava’s arms, looks at her, and sees how her eyes are full of tears. “…you have a bar.”

“Yes, we do.” Boyd continues. “And we both work at the bar, but we also do other… activities which are not legal.” Boyd swallows, and can’t keep looking at Graham, so the next words are spoke the room in general. “And I used to rob banks when I was younger. That’s what I was doing when your daddy and I met again, but there’s been a long time since I robbed any banks. I’m more… in the security business today.” He takes a deep breath, looks at Graham again. “Illegal security business, that is.”

Graham can’t quite believe. He’s been so sure, all this time, that his daddy was lying; that Art had been wrong all those years ago, because Art doesn’t know Boyd at all; that Boyd and Ava were as honest and righteous as any other American family in the state of Kentucky.

“I…” the world is a strangled sound, and Graham feels as the first tear rolls down his face, quickly followed by others. He tries again. “I thought he was lying…”

“Oh, no, baby, no.” Boyd hugs him then, his own voice shaking with emotion. “He would never do that. He loves you, Graham, he loves you so very much, he really does, and we love you too, we… Graham, we love you like you’re our own, and we would never hurt you, Raylan would never hurt you, son, he loves you so much.”

Somewhere in his mind Graham notices that his hair is wet with someone’s tears: he’s not sure if it’s Ava’s or Boyd’s, since they’re both holding him. He’s not shaking any more, but he feels frightened, like the world has just changed it’s spin.

There are more tears that night, but Boyd and Ava don’t talk much more. They agree they should all talk together the next morning, when Raylan was to pick him up. Things are not explained, exactly – there are more silences and suspensions points than explanations. But Graham thinks he understands, now: the Crowders don’t wanna talk and Raylan doesn’t want to know. It’s not a good arrangement, it’s horrible and cruel; but it’s the only one that’ll work if they want to stay in each other’s lives. And there’s no doubt they will, no question if Graham will ever come back. In the end, knowing what they do doesn’t change who they are, and even if it’s a slow process, Graham is sure someday he’ll be able to understand.

 

The first time he recognizes the secret for what it is, he’s fifteen. But it’s not his age that is important, but the fact that he is, for the first time in his life, in love.

Graham is completely in love with Amelia. She’s smart and funny and more than a bit crazy, her short black hair the strangest thing to ever fascinate the young man. She loves Kafka and is a terrible singer, and she can listen to Heavy Metal while wearing pink dresses. He’s sure she loves him back, and they’ve been together for a whole month now, and sometimes Graham feels as if his heart will explode just thinking about her.

He wanted to wait, he wanted to be careful with her and with himself, but it’s no use: they’ve been approaching faster and faster the day they both know stolen kisses won’t be enough. And it’s overwhelming, crazy and strange, the way Graham now knows what if feels like to hold her weight against his body, to feel her touch in the inside of his tights, to know the taste of her neck and the scent of her hair and the feel of her waist. He feels close, intimacy in a level he never thought it was possible when reading about love stories in old books. It’s completely crazy, and Graham is completely in love, and it’s like he can see the whole world in a new perspective now.

Maybe that’s why he finally gets it.

Or maybe that isn’t exactly it. Maybe it’s because all the adults in his life – his momma, Aunt Jamie, his daddy, Boyd, Ava – have come to the conclusion fifteen was a good age to a man start drinking. And that’s awesome, really, but not because Graham is sudden in love with the burn of Jim Beam – he’s been stolen beers since he was thirteen and he’s not quite sure he understands the appeal yet. But the way the whole family now agrees he’s responsible enough to hold his liquor means no one is holding himself back those days: they drink freely around him and it’s amazing.

Last week he stayed up with Winona until four in the morning, both doing shots of tequila and talking about stupid things you do for love. His momma talked about her first boyfriend, about Raylan, about Gary, about Jack (her latest one); he talked about Amelia all night without shame or embarrassment. He knows most boys wouldn’t talk about this stuff with their mommas, but he also knows most mommas wouldn’t drink Jose Cuervo with their sons: he figures he got a pretty bad ass momma, and he might as well be happy about it.

Tonight this awesome phenomenon was happening in Harlan: Boyd and Ava had kicked everyone that “wasn’t family” out of the bar and were introducing Graham to the wonders of an authentic Kentucky moonshine, with his daddy’s more than happy approval.

“Son, comes morning you’ll be in a world of pain.” Boyd said with his most dangerous smile, while giving him the glass with the clear liquid.

“Why the hell should I drink it them?” Graham eyed the glass with suspicion, not sure if he wouldn’t rather have a beer.

“’Cause you’re a Givens, boy!” Boyd slammed his hand against the table, starting Ava. “You have to drink like a man!”

“Boyd is right, you know.” Raylan had said, sipping at his own glass way faster than Graham could manage. “If there’s any heritage in our family is alcohol abuse. It’s kind of a legacy.”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole.” Boyd swats at his daddy, joy in his eyes.

“That too. Being an asshole. Very old tradition among the Givens.” Raylan lets himself smile freely at Boyd, and Graham wonders.

He’s not sure exactly what he’s seeing there. He knows now there’s a bloody story between Raylan and Boyd, knows they’ve been against each other more than once and he also knows that Raylan has put a bullet in Boyd’s chest once: all the stories were slowly being told to him, as he was getting older. He thinks he understands them better now, understands why so many times his father wouldn’t trust or let himself be next to Boyd, why there was so much hate and violence.

He also knows that has been years since Raylan had to put Boyd in handcuffs, long years where Boyd’s business had been a quiet one, and the Crowders have kept the peace, even as outlaws. In those years, they’ve both healed from the wounds, and they’ve got closer again. Graham knows that Raylan doesn’t come to Harlan just to bring him now, that Raylan’s spending time with Boyd alone: knows that they’ve gone fishing for a few days last month, knows that they’ve been drinking with each other every other weekend. And Graham is quite happy to know that his daddy has finally forgiven, but even if Graham thinks he understands them better now – the wounds and the scars, the bullet and the betrayal, the pain and the friendship – he’s not quite sure he understands everything.

Boyd leans against the bar to snatch the glass from Raylan’s fingers, drinking the shine in one big gulp as Raylan watches: Graham wonders.

 

At two a.m., Graham is the sober of them all: he couldn’t stand the bitter taste of the shine, so he switched to beer, leaving the adults to share the tall glass. Raylan is, without a doubt, the one losing it faster, for whatever reason. He’s walking around with bare foot, wearing only a wife beater and jeans, his signature hat resting in Ava’s head as the woman sings along with the jukebox. Boyd tried to clog half an hour ago, but had to stop because Raylan was so red in the face they all thought he was having a seizure.

Now they’re all playing poker, and Graham has lost enough money to the Crowders that he would be surely dead if he was any other person in the county. As it is, he’s pretty sure Boyd will just pretend to take his money and put it back in his backpack comes morning.

Graham is not sure why he suddenly remembers, it’s not like his father and Boyd are doing anything different: they’re drinking, and Raylan is waving around with his cards as he whines about something Rachel did at work, and Boyd is watching him, smiling as if nothing could make him happier. Graham thinks, “They’re happy”, and then remembers the photography he found years ago amongst his daddy’s things. They were happy then, and they were both shirtless, and Graham has, since that day, saw similar pictures with other people in it: half his facebook feed has happy couples’ pictures where one was looking at the camera and the other was staring, loving, at the other.

Graham manages to quietly think “What. The. Hell.” while he sips at his beer, still wondering.

 

At four a.m., Graham has switched to Diet Coke, but is, by all means, the only one: Ava is still loudly singing even though the juke has stopped a long time ago; Boyd is trying to explain the latest troubles with the Dixie Mafia by referring to it as “those guys” and to heroin as “the product”; and Raylan is fast asleep on the floor, Graham has no idea why, his upper body held against an empty chair.

“Boyd, why is my daddy on the floor?”

Boyd stops half way through his explanation and stares at Graham for a long time.

“No idea, son. No idea.”

For a moment Graham thought Boyd was going back to his tale, but then he’s rising from his chair with uncertain steps and walking towards Raylan.

“C’mon, Raylan, up. Get off the floor.”

Boyd tries to wake Raylan for half a minute, but ends up sitting in the chair Raylan was leaning in: the man doesn’t awake, but immediately leans his body against Boyd’s legs, his face against his thighs. Without thought, Boyd’s hand rests in Raylan’s naked neck, fingers brushing his hair.

Boyd looks up at Graham, as if suddenly remembering the boy was still there; but Graham doesn’t care much. He understands now, because he can understand intimacy and closeness, he has it with Amelia just as Boyd has it with Ava and has it with his daddy. It’s also telling Boyd is not searching Ava with his eyes, is not worried that Ava might see something; his only worry is Graham. She knows as well, and she doesn’t care, it’s them, that’s what they are.

Graham thinks he could not care as well, because he honestly doesn’t want to know the details but he honestly doesn’t think this is a bad secret. It’s not much of a secret, actually, not if he thinks about it: all the times his daddy met his eyes and told him, without words, how close he and Boyd were now, _again_. Yes, he didn’t talk about the whole sexual – _ugh_ – aspect of their relationship, but Graham is pretty sure the only reason why he didn’t understood it a long time ago was because he knew jack shit about sex until last month. That and the fact that they were never as drunk in front of him as they were now, so this whole gay affair was somehow more subtle.

Graham is suddenly laughing, giggling in fact: he had been drinking the whole night, after all, and he may not be shitfaced but he was more than tipsy. Thinking about Boyd and his daddy as a “gay affair” was surely the most surreal thing that ever crossed his mind, and damn, it was funny.

Boyd’s staring at him like he lost his mind, and that’s quite unfair since he’s the one stroking a marshal’s hair in front of his wife.

“That’s okay, Uncle Boyd.” Graham says, not even caring that he was calling Boyd uncle between the giggles. “I’ll go to bed now. You’ll take care of daddy, right?”

“I always do, son.” Boyd agrees, smiling brightly.

“I know you do. Yeah, I know you do.”

 

(“No, seriously, for a while I was not quite sure if you were innocent, this little child that I had shielded way too much from the world, or if you were just, you know, plain dumb. Slow. Now, you won’t hit your old daddy. No, but really, me and Boyd weren’t holdin’ hands but we weren’t exactly hidin’ it either. He used to sleep at my place all the time, what do you think we were doing, braiding each other’s hairs? I told your momma it was dangerous to drink while pregnant. Now the harm is done. Good thing you’re pretty.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! I wrote a much longer chapter 'cause I know it took me ages to update, so I thought you all deserved a little bit more. The book Graham was reading at his birthday party, as I think many of you must have recognized, is "The Little Prince". The little talk Raylan says to his son right at the end is inspired by an interview Timothy Olyphant did at Ellen's. And yes, he did said those things about his children. He's that much of a sweetheart! THANK YOU FOR READING, and if you wanna find me, I'm at ohthati.tumblr.com , as usual.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan Givens is an old man of old habits. Boyd Crowder is not a friend of the family.

Graham closes the book, feeling like he should just burn it. Or maybe rip it into small little pieces. Or maybe spit on Fitzgerald’s grave, who knows.

He knows what the fucker is doing. He knows, because he’d done it before. Graham was slowly falling in love with Dick, just as he had once completely fallen in love with Gatsby. Graham is quite aware many of his colleges would say that Gatsby was a shallow, bad man; a criminal who was enamored with the spark of gold. The thing is, to Graham, that didn’t mean the man was any less attractive, it didn’t mean Gatsby wasn’t wonderful and incredible and charming in an overwhelming way.

The student snorts. Of course he would excuse the criminal. It’s kind of his thing.

He could already see that Dick was just as charming, just as amazing, and he could already guess the man would suffer all kinds of hells. He wants to be friends with Dick, he wants to dance with Nicole, he wants to dinner under the stars in a French villa, and fuck, he call already feel the blows coming, he’s not even half way through the book. Damn, he hates Fitzgerald and his amazing books, he really does.

Maybe he should go back to Homer and finish Odyssey once and for all. It couldn’t be tougher than Iliad, of that Graham is sure.

His phone rings. As Graham looks at the clock, he realizes it’s already ten a.m. in the morning – oh, so he’s missing his morning classes today, then. Fuck, whatever. He’ll read Homer and compensate for it.

He’s more surprised to see that his phone reads “Ava Crowder” – it’s Wednesday morning, he _should_ be in class, and his aunt knows that. He answers it quickly.

“Hey, kid, do you wanna have breakfast with your old Aunt Ava?”

“Ava, I would love to eat your eggs and Boyd’s bacon, but I really can’t this week.”

“Too many classes, hm?”

“Tell you the true… not really.” Graham laughed as he stretched his legs in his bed, “Tender is the Night” abandoned on the carpet beside him. “In fact, don’t get mad at me, but I’m skipping class right now. It’s just, if I drive twelve hours all the way to Kentucky just to eat your breakfast I’ll probably have to stay and enjoy dinner as well, and then I’ll want to eat breakfast the next morning, and you know how those things go. Next thing you know, I’m either working the mine or serving booze with Jimmy, ‘cause you know I ain’t got the looks to work on Audrey’s.” he finishes sweetly, knowing that it’ll bring a laugh to Ava.

She does laugh, but it’s a small sound, as if she was caught off guard. “Good thing I did the drivin’ then. Look out of your window.”

Graham gets up and out of the bed faster than he did the whole semester: as he looks over, there she is, standing just outside the dormitory, hair up in a ponytail that makes her look way younger than she really is, waving for him from across the street.

He puts on his sneakers and picks a sweater on the floor, dressing it on the stairs that leads him out of the building. He don’t even think about bringing any money, and he reasons it’s a childish gesture he can’t find in himself to restrain – if it’s Ava, or Boyd, or daddy, or Winona, he’ll just follow then without thinking about money or where he’s going, like he’s still nine. He’s eighteen now, in college and doing a major in English, as everyone always knew he would someday. It’s time to behave more like an adult.

It doesn’t really say much about his maturity once he gets outside, running to hug her and calling her “Aunt Ava” out loud because he can’t really control himself. He’s been in college for four months already, and he’s been missing everyone, he’s too far away from home and he’s feeling like a goddamn orphan out here, barely talking with his daddy and Boyd and Ava since apparently being born in Harlan means no knowledge of Skype. They all came to help him move and have dinner in town, making sure he would be hangover on his first day in college; that was sweet. Graham keeps pretending he doesn’t really care, because he’s a college student with a whole world to discover and books to read and friends to make and sex to have, true is: he misses home, he’s a damn spoiled baby that could ran to his Aunt Ava’s arms every time he had a boo-boo since he was three.

She hugs him like always, tight and close, holding his body as if he’s still smaller than her, and he’s been taller since his sixteen birthday. When they part, he smiles big at her, but she just stands close, looking at his eyes as if seeing him under a new light. Her hand holds his face, she’s searching for something. Finally, she steps back, serious and grave, hooking her arm on his.

“We gotta talk.” – her voice small.

“Is everything okay? Is anyone hurt? Boyd, daddy?”

“Don’t worry, no one’s hurt. Let’s eat somethin’ and then talk, you lookin’ like you haven’t eaten since you left home, boy.”

“I didn’t left home.”

She smiles then, as she always does when he reassures her. The Crowders were, understandable, the ones that fear it most, not even Winona has been reacting like that. But Graham looks too much like Raylan did when he was nineteen, almost the same age, the same looks, and even the same barely disguised Harlan accent when he lets himself go: too many afternoons spent on _them hills_. Ava and Boyd had fear in their eyes, as if they were going to have to wait another twenty years before Graham was back. He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life living under his family wings, but he’s not leaving Kentucky for good, he doesn’t have ghosts and hurtful memories there, he has a home and loved ones. He’s coming back, sooner or later, and it won’t take him twenty years.

They sit in a small dinner, Ava ordering what looks like the whole breakfast menu. Graham stops to really look at her. She’s way more gorgeous than she should be, what with the life she lived, but there’s something off today, something ugly under her skin. The boy suddenly realizes that she must have driven the whole night nonstop, and that’s why she looks so tired. He already knows the news are not good, and he’s just waiting for her to start.

They both eat a lot, Ava making him talk about college and classes and friends. She listens with care and doesn’t seem distracted, as if every word out of his mouth is the most important thing. Finally, they’re having their forth cup of coffee, and its way closer to lunch time than breakfast. She looks him over and says, without trying to break the blow:

“Me and Boyd ain’t together anymore.”

Graham looks at her in silence for a long time. Before she said it, it had crossed his mind that this could be it, the bad news could have something to do with their marriage, but this was a fleeting thought that Graham soon dismissed: Boyd and Ava were for life. They loved each other, they’ve gone through _everything_ just to get here, they’ve faced every single thing. Ava’s last marriage had ended because Bowman was a son of a bitch that beat his wife, and Ava had to shot him dead just to stay alive. He couldn’t imagine what on earth, what tragedy could have happened for it to be over.

“What…” his voice is clipped, but not shaking, because he’s a man and he can do this. “What happened?”

She looks down at her cup of coffee, smiling without happiness.

“Same thing your daddy asked. I’m still not sure what to answer you both, to tell you the true.”

This is about her, he realizes. Not about the weekends he won’t spend on their bar, drinking and watching them dance; not about the awkwardness on his next birthday party; not about that tree in their yard in Harlan that still has Graham’s name carved on it. It’s about Ava, and he has to understand this quickly.

He reaches for her from across the table, holding her fingers and realizing for the first time that his hands are bigger than hers. That she’s not Wonder Woman, that she’s not just steel and bones, that she’s also flesh and blood, and that she spent almost twenty years of her life loving Boyd Crowder.

“Aunt, are you okay?”

“I’m… I will be. I think we’ll all be.”

She tells him, then. She explains it in the best way she can, and it’s hard to put feelings in words, to talk about the problem when there really isn’t one. They still love each other – “We’ll always love each other, honey.” –, they still care, but they’re not a couple any more. She says it in a way that Graham knows means more than just sexually, it’s something deeper, something about waking up in a house you’re sharing with a dear friend.

They also talk about the different things Ava and Boyd want for their lives. It’s been years since Ava talked around the crime business, she knows she can trust Graham and that he’s smart enough to know what not to mention in front of his father. She talks about how Boyd wants to leave it all, how he’s tired of the game, when she feels like she’s just beginning. He’s back at his old Dairy Queen dream, he wants to spend his last years without fear, but she can’t rightly fit in that life. She’s Harlan’s Queen, she’s been that long enough she’s not quite sure she knows how to be anything else.

Graham sense that this is the betrayal Ava wasn’t expecting: that one day, Boyd would wake up and realize he’s tired, that he doesn’t want to live like that anymore. But that’s Boyd for you, he’s always changing, always re-thinking, always re-inventing himself. A life as a work of art, one of his teachers would say. In real relationships, that meant people were always getting hurt, because Boyd had changed once again, and you could never know where would his unique mind lead them all next.

So Ava understands, understands Boyd has to do this, that he has to change and recreate his persona once again, but that doesn’t mean she has to follow. It’s her life as well, and that’s her decision.

“He won’t be alone, ya’ know? It won’t destroy him. He has your daddy. He loves Raylan, and fuck it all to hell, but your daddy loves him.”

She says it with a smile, voice light and eyes shining, like she thinks it’s the funniest thing ever. Graham could never detect a bitter tone on Ava’s voice when talking about Raylan and Boyd. If anything, she always seemed surprised that Raylan was so lost in the whole thing, that Graham’s daddy could love Boyd just as much as Boyd loved him. They all knew Raylan would never admit, but that was a “secret” Ava and Graham would laugh at, sometimes sharing a smile and rolling their eyes at Raylan’s antics around Boyd.

Graham knew Ava sometimes would hook up with Jimmy – it was the strangest thing for all of them. Boyd, Raylan and Graham would all sit in a corner of the bar, looking with wide eyes as Ava would laugh at something stupid that Jimmy had to say, sharing horrified looks between each other and not talking about it. The closer they ever came to talk about was on a late Friday night, Graham trying to hide his laugh behind a book as Jimmy flirted in a ridiculous manner with Ava.

As she came back to his table, Jimmy gone, she tossed his book on the floor, not without humor in her eyes:

“What?” she asked, giving the three men a glare. “He’s pretty. And younger.”

“Amen to that.” Graham remembers his daddy saying, getting hit on the back of the head by Boyd for his opinion.

It was crazy, but it was also easier than Raylan and Boyd, it was Ava having some fun on her own. It wasn’t a love story, a tragic tale of coal digging and bullets, but it was something hers, and they couldn’t really say anything about it.

So that was it, basically. One day Boyd and Ava realized that they didn’t need each other any longer, that they could be okay apart, and it was painful but it wasn’t impossible: the fact alone that being apart wasn’t impossible was enough for them to understand it was over.

Besides:

“I don’t wanna wait until we hate each other, Graham. I don’t wanna wait ‘till we’re completely done and I feel like the shotgun is my only way out. I have plans for my life, Boyd has plans for his, those plans don’t match, we gotta move on. I ain’t gonna follow him blind, I’m not that girl anymore, I gotta… I gotta learn how to be on my own. I’ve been Ava Crowder since I was out of High School. You think ‘bout that.”

Graham did. He thought about the life Ava wanted to live, the crazy, criminal plans she had for herself, the thing with Jimmy that none of them ever thought about seriously but that has been going on for years. Graham thought about the fact she was amazing and strong enough to only accept the whole thing, that if her and Boyd weren’t in love anymore she wouldn’t just stay for inertia or fear. Finally, he thought about what the future could bring, and it was amazing, because her future seemed just as rich in possibilities as his own, college kid that he was.

“Aunt, I just realized” Graham said, laughing suddenly. “I have _no idea_ what your maiden name is.”

“You’re ‘bout to find out, boy.” She winked at him, a smile on her lips.

 

(“I’ll tell ya, kid, I’ve seen some bizarre shit going on in Harlan in my days, but Ava hookin’ up with that lil’ shit just about take the prize. I ain’t sayin’ he’s a bad man, I’m just sayin’ he ain’t much of one. Yeah, yeah, he’s twenty years older than you, but I can still remember the day you puked all over Ava’s dress ‘cause the car was going too fast, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t think that’s much of an argument.”)

 

It’s times like this that Graham feels so very young.

He doesn’t know what he should be doing. If he should be trying to comfort his father, if his father even needs comfort. He doesn’t quite know how to behave, if he should be talking to people, if he should stand in silence. Maybe he should pray. He’s just not sure.

He was never close to the man, and he knows exactly why. Since that birthday party, Graham was never very happy around Chief Art Mullen. He knew the man was an old friend of his daddy, he knew the man had been right at the time, and he also knew Art had been more understandable with Raylan’s antics that most bosses would dream of. Deep down, though, Graham was never able to shake the feeling the man was a damn idiot if he couldn’t understand that there were criminals and there were Crowders, and that the Crowders were a completely different species of outlaw. He knew it was a silly, rather unfair way of seeing things, but what could he do? It was his aunt and uncle, and he would stand by their sides don’t matter what.

But now the man was dead. Graham feels like he never really knew Art Mullen, that he doesn’t have the faintest idea what bonds connected the old marshal and his daddy. He awkwardly stands by his father side in the funeral, no idea what to do with his hands.

For what it feels like the tenth time today, he wonders why Boyd isn’t there with them.

Gutterson is the one crying. Graham wouldn’t bet on it, but Tim is actually the one crying his eyes out, the one looking like he lost a dear father, a match only to Art’s real daughters. It’s impossible sad, and Boyd would probably be able to understand what the hell was going on in Gutterson’s mind, even able to tell him one or two words of consolation, but Graham can’t, he feels as if he doesn’t know how to socialize with humans at all.

There’s food being served and, even though Graham’s starving, he can’t shake the sense of disrespecting the death by eaten at a funeral. Graham is not quite sure how to do death. It’s amazing that, growing up in Kentucky surrounded by Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder, Graham managed to attend at just two or three services in his whole life. Maybe his daddy did protect him too much.

It’s been more than two years since Ava and Boyd’s divorce – in those two years, according to Winona (that was always Raylan’s favorite listener), Raylan hasn’t seen anyone else, but still can’t bring himself to talk about Boyd as his… well. Whatever the hell Boyd is. Graham supposes that’s the reason why Boyd isn’t here right now.

Raylan looks at his vibrating cellphone, but he doesn’t answer the call.

Graham curses under his breath.

He goes to Boyd’s home right after the funeral. He has a few reasons for that, namely, he believes his daddy would enjoy some time alone to sort himself; he wants to figure out why the hell Boyd wasn’t there after all; and last but not least, he’s still fucking starving.

Boyd is living in Paris, Kentucky right now. After everything was said and done, Ava got Harlan in the divorce – she’s still the queen. Jimmy is not exactly the king, though, more like a faithful servant, and that seems like exactly what she wanted.

The time it takes for Graham to drive there, Boyd is getting ready to close – it’s almost nine p.m. on a Thursday, bad movement day, and the weather is cool enough the kids are not begging for ice creams. The tables are empty and the boys who work there are getting ready to leave, Boyd is storing ice cream and cleaning things up when Graham meets him.

He greets the boy with the same warmth, but doesn’t ask what he’s doing in Kentucky: of course he heard about Art’s death. He gives Graham half of a strawberry blizzard cake and a spoon, and doesn’t stop working around.

“So… I was with daddy.”

“Hum-hm.”

“How do you think he’s doing?”

Boyd doesn’t look back at Graham, just keep fighting against a mint ice cream stain on showcase glass. Graham can only see his back.

“I’m sure Raylan will find the strength to survive such a tremendous lost.”

“You’re pissed at him.” Boyd doesn’t answer, but Graham knows how to make them talk by now. “Okay, you’re either pissed at him or pissed at me, and I would like to know which one is it.”

“You bet your scrawny ass I’m pissed at your father.” Still he doesn’t turn. “He’s an asshole. An old asshole. An old, skinny, tiresome fuckin’ asshole.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. He’s my daddy, remember? But why did you leave him alone?”

That makes Boyd turn. “ _I_ left him alone? That what he told ya?” At Graham’s denial, Boyd says. “I didn’t left him, he was the one that said he didn’t need me today. What the hell do you wanted me to do?”

“Oh, Boyd, for fucks sake, you can’t tell me you actually believe what Raylan Givens tells you about his own feelings.”

“Graham, you listen to me and you listen to me carefully, ‘cause I’m only gonna say it once. I love your daddy, but I ain’t _his_ daddy. It’s not my fuckin’ job to look after him.”

Graham immediately felt the need to say, “Yes, it is”, because it had been Boyd’s job for the last years. Boyd knew what Raylan needed before anyone else, he was there over the years to ground Raylan and make him sane, he was the one Raylan trusted to share his burdens with. Yeah, they never talked about it, but… they all knew. They all just knew.

“But… Boyd?”

Boyd turns his back at the table again, throwing the cloth he’d been working with on the showcase over his shoulder. Graham has to guess his facial expressions by the way his shoulders fall forward, as if defeated.

“I’m here. I came here, to fucking Paris, I… left Harlan.”

Of course. Harlan was pain. Raylan could forgive the Crowders but he couldn’t forget, and he would never be able to forgive what Arlo Givens did, never able to forget what Harlan meant. Harlan would always be pain, Raylan could never be really happy there, and Boyd had gave up on Harlan because it.

“I’m here, and he’s… he comes and he stays but he never _stays_ and he told me he didn’t need me today. And I’m here, and most of my days I’m alone, Graham, and I’m afraid that’s all I’m going to be, and old man alone in Paris, Kentucky, and Raylan will be an old man alone in Lexington, Kentucky, thirty fuckin’ minutes away from me.”

It takes thirty minutes to drive from Paris to Lexington. All of Raylan’s things could probably be moved in one single afternoon. All of Boyd things could probably fit in a backpack.

“Have you tried… asking him?”

Boyd still doesn’t look at him, and Graham guesses he’s already sorry he talked that much. Graham feels, again, so very young, and this is worse than any fight he ever witnessed between Raylan and Winona.

“If there’s one thing I can tell for sure in my long existence in this earth is that I’ve come to know that man. He knows the reason I’m here, why I’m in this shithole and not anywhere else in our free country. He knows why I’m living in a white fence house with two bedrooms. He doesn’t need a written invitation, that much I can tell ya. If he ain’t stayin’, that’s ‘cause he doesn’t wanna stay.”

But why the hell wouldn’t they be together, at last, finally? After all this time?

“Your daddy knows how to deal with a girlfriend and he knows how deal with a wife.” Boyd answers the question Graham didn’t voice. “I’m neither of those, so I’m sure he doesn’t have the faintest clue of what to do with me. I ain’t gonna be the one to teach him, and anyway, I think he’s way too old to learn new tricks.”

Yes, Graham could recognize Raylan Givens all over that little pattern. How to break it that would be the real bitch.

 

(“I can’t talk about it, Graham. No. Boy, no. This between me and Boyd, and me and Boyd alone. You got no business stickin’ your nose on our stuff. Go find yourself your own fuckin’ problems, stay out of it.”)

 

Graham wasn’t nervous. He knew he had a mission, a duty of sorts. Obviously, he was the best son in the whole wild world, and that was enough encouragement to guarantee his plan would work.

He would be coming back to Kentucky on the next year, as soon as college was over – he would allow himself six months to think what he wants to do with his life, where to go, and possibly, maybe, hopefully, write his first book. Then, it would be Graham against the world.

Since he would need some sort of peace of mind for those six months to actually work out okay, he wasn’t exactly anxious to face his daddy’s bullshit. Now, six months to re-think his future also meant six months without any real money, so he would probably have to crash with his daddy, at least until he found a half-decent job as a teacher somewhere.

So yeah, now was the time for desperate measures.

It also helped that between living with his daddy and the current moment, he had a whole year. So whatever crap he pulled right now, he would have twelve months to try and earn his forgiveness.

He looked up again, staring at the restaurant’s door for the hundred time in the past 20 minutes. He was fucking stuck in diet coke, either because he had to drive afterwards and because he wanted to keep a clear head the whole dinner, and a drink would make wonders right now. Not that he was, you know, nervous or anything. It’s just that… well, he was a Givens, after all. Only heritage.

He raised his eyes to meet the sight of his daddy and Boyd walking in the restaurant, a good four feet between them. Graham cursed out loud, scaring the dignified lady by the next table: he was hoping Boyd would meet him earlier, but no, the two of them decided to come together, and now he was stuck with the whole package. Fuck indeed.

They walked calmly to the table Graham occupied, pretending not to notice the fancy restaurant their kid had choose for the evening. Graham, though, knew both men well enough to realize they were scanning the place with subtle looks. It was a grown up place, with grown up food and everyone – Raylan and Boyd included – were wearing grown up, suit and tie clothes.

As soon as everyone is in place, the waiter – as instructed – brought them glasses of Pappy van Winkle. Graham watches as Raylan and Boyd’s eyes met, a small smile in both their faces: he wishes the smile meant _“how independent and refined our boy has turned out to be”_ , but he’s pretty sure they’re silently saying to each other _“This little fuck is up to something”_. Not comforting.

“So, young man,” Boyd is the one to start. “please don’t imagine for a second that I’m complainin’ ‘bout the extravagant treatment you’re dispensing Raylan and me, but that sure is an unusual place for a casual endeavor with your kin.”

“What do ya mean?” Graham played dumb.

“No worries, boy, I know Boyd sometimes needs translation. What he meant was” at this point, Raylan leaned on the table, lowering his voice, a raised finger. “why the fuck did you bring two old hillbillies to such a fancy place?”

“Felt like it.” Graham grumbled, looking down at his glass. He can hear the clear disbelief Raylan manages to insert in the “Hum-hm” sound, and has to ask himself how did he managed to be half-raised by Crowders and still be such a terrible liar.

“Okay, fine. I wanted you to meet someone I’m seeing. Someone special.”

Raylan settled back in his chair, spreading his long legs and rubbings his hand on his face. Apparently, daddy wasn’t quite ready to meet his future daughter-in-law. Boyd, though, smiled broadly, glee in his eyes.

“Oh, really? And, pray tell, what makes this lady so unique? Or gentleman, of course.”

“My boy ain’t a fag!”

Both Boyd and Graham looked in disbelief at Raylan’s sudden reaction, mouths gapping in his direction.

“What?” Raylan mumbled, looking a bit ashamed at his own words. “Ain’t like this shit’s genetic.”

He had to take the laugh of both his son and his oldest friend, badass reputation or not.

“She’s a girl.” Graham confirmed after a while. “And I’m in love with her.”

“As you were in love with Amelia?”

“For fuck’s sake, can you two forget Amy? I was fifteen, Jesus Christ.” Boyd and Raylan exchanged smiles once again, and Graham liked them much better when they were against each other. “Look, I really like Jackie, she’s wonderful, and hell, I think you gonna like her too. I mean… as long as Boyd keeps his shirt on, I think we’re good.”

Boyd looked startled, as if he’d done something wrong already (well, he kind of did). Raylan’s reaction, though, was once again the best.

“Oh shit, son, you seein’ a gipsy?”

They were off in a laughing fit again.

“Daddy, fuck, no, you ass! Her mother is black and her father is white.” Graham answered between chuckles. “And you two better start behaving, she’s here.”

Jackie was gorgeous, as always, and her big smile brought Graham some comfort (not that he was, in any way, nervous. Not at all). She was the aggressive sort of women Graham was sure he would always be attracted to, what with his minor Oedipus tendencies.

“You guys look like you’re having fun without me.” She said with easiness.

“Oh, Jackie, I can never have fun without you!” was Graham’s cheeky answer, shameless enough to grant him a laugh. “Jackie, this is my father, Raylan Givens, and his life partner, Boyd Crowder.”

Graham watched the moment both men understood what was happening: the look of complete surprise – or maybe even shock – on their faces. He knew it would be like this. Or, okay, maybe he kind of hoped Boyd would figure it out before, since he was always the intelligent one, but no, no such luck. They were both under the impression Boyd was here as “Uncle Boyd”: the man that was always present in Graham’s life. Yeah, sure, Boyd was an important part of Graham’s life and Graham would want him here even if he wasn’t sleeping with his daddy. But fuck, tonight wasn’t about that, about Boyd being that great guy in his birthday parties, tonight was “meeting the parents” night. Raylan and Boyd have been together for ages, exclusive for the last years, and it was time they all stopped pretending Boyd was just a friend of the family. It was getting fucking ridiculous at this point.

Graham knew Raylan couldn’t deal with having a husband, couldn’t deal with having a boyfriend, but he’s been a marshal for most of his life. Graham guessed he could accept the word “partner”, even if it took some time.

“I’ve heard so much about the two of you on those months,” Jackie was saying over the awkward moment, pretending to be oblivious in a very gracious manner. “I feel like I know Harlan already.”

“Oh, hon, you haven’t met Harlan ‘till you’ve _met_ Harlan.” Boyd was trying hard, but half his charm was still lost in his shock. Graham saw the subtle look Boyd directed at Raylan, but his daddy was busy downing the expensive bourbon in one gulp. “So… how did Graham manage to make acquaintance with such a fine young lady?”

“By being a fine young gentleman myself, of course.” Graham answered before Jackie could.

“By being a sweet talker, more likely.” Raylan murmured against his glass, but it was loud enough for the whole table to hear.

“ _That_ shit sure is genetic.” was Boyd quick answer, and even though the joke wasn’t all that great, it was enough to take at least part of the tension from the table. Graham watched as their eyes met one more time, and he couldn’t quite describe what was exchanged between the men, but Raylan had a small smile in his lips. Good signs.

Jackie told them about the French cinema club where they met, on that weird session of “Alphaville” – Graham still doesn’t know if he liked or hated the movie. It was an ordinary college love story, nothing tragic or epic about it, but the way she talked about it, the glee shining through her eyes, made that tale something very special, at least for Graham.

“How about you?” Jackie asked with open curiosity. “How long are you two together?”

Again, shock and terror were all over Boyd and Raylan’s faces. They didn’t talk about it, not really, not in clear terms. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t tragic.

“We were…” Boyd started, but then stopped. He gave Jackie a smile that lacked confidence, looked around at the restaurant, swallowed. “Well, we’ve know each other all our lives. And we were… hm, boyfrie…”

“Together.” Raylan amended fast.

“Together, yes, we got together when we were eighteen.”

“Seventeen.”

They stopped and looked at each other. Graham kind of wanted to slap them, or hug them, something in between.

“Raylan, you only work the mine when you’re of age, hence, we were eighteen when we started there.”

“Yeah, eighteen in the mine and seventeen when we started…” Raylan, brown furrowed, moved a finger between their bodies, as if it was explanation enough. “We only got to the mine ‘cause we were together.”

“I always thought it was the other way around.” Graham felt the need to say, because he probably knew as much as Jackie about the beginning of Raylan and Boyd.

“That ‘cause it was the other way ‘round.” Boyd insisted.

“No, that’s ‘cause Boyd is old and he keeps forgetin’ when it happened.”

“Well, but how did it happen?” Jackie cut in before Raylan and Boyd started their own impersonation of “Mr. and Mrs. Smith”.

Boyd, though, started laughing the moment the question was out of her mouth.

“Oh, I see that little detail you’re able to remember.” Raylan teases, not without humor.

Graham thinks he hears Boyd mumbling “ain’t nothing lil’ ‘bout it.” Between chocked laugh, but seriously, he really doesn’t need this sort of detail, so he focus on Raylan saying:

“That really ain’t a story Boyd and I could rightly share in front of a lady.”

“Or in front of Graham without traumatizing him.” Boyd then said in a much sober tone: “But Raylan was out of Harlan by the time we were both nineteen, and haven’t set foot in Kentucky ‘till twenty years later.”

“Oh, and you two got together again the moment he was back?”

Even Graham had to snort at that.

“No, not in that moment, no.” Boyd answered, and there was the smallest hint of bitterness in his pleasant voice, a hint only the Givens in the table would be able to catch.

Raylan didn’t fail to notice.

“Me and Boyd followed different paths in our lives.” His answer was directed at Jackie, but he kept his eyes on the man beside him. “And we’ve hurt each other a lot over the years. We ain’t gonna tell you the whole story tonight, ‘cause honestly, it would ruin a perfect fine evening for all of us. What I can tell ya is that I was never able to escape Boyd, hating or lovin’ him.” At those words, Boyd finally raised his eyes. “And God knows I’ve tried. Hell, sometimes I still keep on tryin’. Old habits and all that.”

Because yes, Raylan still had old wounds and still couldn’t bring himself to fully trust the man he loved: he spent way too much time fighting Boyd to just let go now, an old habit of an old man.

Boyd tapped his fingers lightly over Raylan’s hand, trying his best to keep his own tone easy.

“Ain’t like there’s anyone else to deal with your old ass.”

“No, there ain’t.” Boyd tried to recoil his hand, but Raylan trapped his fingers between his own, saying in a low voice. “Seems it’s about time I realize we’re stuck for good.”

 

(“What? I had shit to take care in Lexington ‘fore I came down to Paris for good. I was just… organizing stuff. I was always going to move down here. No, really. I was just… waitin’ a bit. Ya know. I had to… Had to wait. You can never be too sure with Boyd.”)

 

It’s late afternoon, and Graham’s seriously considering going to bed just to end this stupid, frustrating day.

What the fuck is he doing with his life anyway? In his twenties, unemployed, living with his daddy, single, back in Kentucky. The white page stares back, but Graham can’t find a story worth telling. Fuck. He needs a drink.

He gets up and walks toward the kitchen, glad he doesn’t have to make up excuses to drink before six, being a Givens and all. As he gets there, there’s a whole air of romantic chick flick that makes him do a double take: his daddy and Boyd are hugging, Raylan’s head supported low on Boyd’s shoulder, hiding his face. Boyd had a hand combing back Raylan’s hair with gentle movements, and they are quietly moving in the same place, not quite like a dance, but more like a slow swaying. All lights are out.

Graham wants to ask what the hell such a tender moment is doing in the western that is Raylan and Boyd’s life, but then again, why break it?

“Everything okay?” he asked, fetching himself a glass.

“Bad headache.” Raylan murmurs against Boyd’s skin, and what little Graham could see from his eyes told him they were injected red.

“You should see a doctor, dad.”

“He should stop drinking on an empty stomach.” Boyd was shameless inhaling Raylan’s hair. “He ain’t nineteen any longer.”

“Neither are you.”

“Raylan Givens, if I had a time machine at my disposal at this time and moment, I don’t believe I could find in my heart the will or desire to go back.”

Raylan laughed quietly, probably more at Boyd’s wording than at his words.

As Graham went out of the kitchen, back to his computer, he could hear Raylan say: “You know what? I don’t think I would go back myself.”

Graham sits back to face the blank page, knowing there’s only water in his glass: he’ll need a clear mind if he wants to tell this story right. He starts typing, hoping to find the right words, knowing this is a story worth telling. His first paragraph read:

_“They had dug coal together as young men and then lost touch over the years. Now it looked like they’d be meeting again, this time as lawman and felon, Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Gunslingers!!! I'm so, so sorry it took me so long to update the last chapter, but here it is. I'm so very glad to have started this kid!fic, and I'll surely miss Graham. I know this end isn't probably as good as a kid!fic for Boyd and Raylan deserved, but hey, I tried, okay? And I take anyone who's been reading from the start, I'm so glad you stuck with me. That's all, folks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that, babies. You wanna yell at me, you can reach me at ohthati.tumblr.com . Let me know what you think!!!


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